


Speaking in Tongues

by theweddingofthefoxes



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gifts, M/M, childhood feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/pseuds/theweddingofthefoxes
Summary: Hux acts strange after getting a gift from Kylo Ren. Ren decides to find out why.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 29
Kudos: 105
Collections: Kylux Fanworks Secret Santa 2019





	Speaking in Tongues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatiesGhost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatiesGhost/gifts).



> Happy Kylux Secret Santa! I had a lot of fun with this one! Hope my giftee and everyone else enjoys.

It was common, now, for the Supreme Leader to bring General Hux gifts from his missions. The general had never dropped hints for things he would like or use. He seemed like the kind of person whose standards were so high that he would rather live like an ascetic than accept anything that didn’t meet them. That never deterred Ren, who never asked anyway. He knew what Hux liked. Normally. 

Food. Tea. Trophies. All things that made Hux happy, even though Hux did not know how to express happiness as well as he could express anger or fear. It didn’t matter. Ren could feel it.

This gift, however, did not ellicit the kind of purring satisfaction that Ren’s offerings normally did. 

“What is this?”

It only just then occurred to Ren that Hux might not have ever seen paper documents before. Ren had, long ago, back when Ben was alive, but even he wasn’t much used to them. The object he had handed Hux seemed marvously weird, exotic. 

“A book. In the old language of Arkanis.”

Hux brushed a mote of dust off his lapel that only he could apparently see. “An item I’ve never had any use for, in a language I’ve never spoken.” He waited, his face sharp and patient, for Ren to take the criticism. This was a test of the sharpness of the blade, Ren had to remember. Hux was goading him. 

“You do know it,” Ren answered, not bothering to hide the edge creeping into his voice.

“No. You’re mistaken. All I’ve ever known is Basic.” Hux tapped the soft leathery cover of the book with one finger, as if scolding it for misbehaving. “A data pad will automatically translate any documents I download onto it. I have no use for this.” 

But Ren wasn’t mistaken. When he’d found the book, he hadn’t been able to read it himself, but he’d sensed a link between what was in it and what lingered dark and low and deep in Hux’s mind while he slept in Ren’s bed. The Force wouldn’t serve as an automatic translator the way a data pad would, but touching it, Ren could almost hear voices murmuring, as if down a hall. Whatever they were saying, it was the same language as the voices that spoke beneath Hux’s consciousness. Once it was confirmed that it was a language native to the same planet as Hux, it had all made sense. But now, here was Hux denying it. 

“Do what you want with it,” Ren said, and this was a perfect bluff, a perfect block for Hux’s parry. “Use it to wipe your boots, then. I gave it to you and now I don’t care what you do.”

And of course Hux kept it. 

And Ren wanted to know what it said, and why the idea of associating with it made Hux so hostile in the first place. 

Hux kept it on the desk in his spartan quarters, and every time Ren entered it seemed like it was almost in exactly the same spot, though not quite. Was he reading it? It was true that the times Ren had purposely rifled through Hux’s thoughts -- and that was rarer than either of them had expected, because some things Ren just didn’t want to approach, either out of respect or fear -- he had never heard anything other than Basic, but that didn’t mean he didn’t actually know the old language of Arkanis. 

It wasn’t until weeks later that Ren was able to catch Hux in the act of looking at the book, and looking genuinely was the best word for it. He was holding it like an animal might, puzzling over the shapes of the alphabet without taking any of it in. He thought Ren was still asleep, in the bed that was really not big enough for them both, though neither of them had ever thought to complain about it. 

“Don’t you have some kind of dictionary on your data pad you can use?” Ren mumbled, his voice still clogged with sleep. 

Hux bolted, pushing his chair back from the desk with a loud scraping sound.

“To translate,” Ren went on, closing his eyes again.

“I already know what the book says.”

“Hm?” Ren rolled over, blinking his way back awake. “Thought you said you couldn’t read it.”

“I said I didn’t speak it.”

“The pedantry, stars.” 

“I don’t read it very well, either, if you must know.” Ren hauled himself up into a sitting position as Hux brought the book over to the bed, sitting down beside him. He opened up to a page towards the beginning and pointed to one of the words. “Egg.”

Ren furrowed his brow.

Hux pointed to a word below it. “Milk.”

That was when Ren made the connection. “A cookbook?”

Ren wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t that. And yet, there was no wonder now why it had called to Hux. It would be astonishing if anyone on this ship didn’t know about Hux’s origins, especially the older officers. But did they ever actually think about it, about the woman who spoke this language fluently, who had read the recipes to Hux when he was too young to know the difference between it and Basic? 

“It was a common book,” Hux said brusquely. Not for the first time, Ren got the feeling that Hux somehow could read minds as well as he could. “There’s no way to know if this was her copy. I imagine she’d still have hers with her, if she had any say in the matter.”

Of course, there were many things she did not have any say in. 

Hux closed the book.

“Would you be able to tell if she were alive?”

“Yes. Did you ever look for her?”

“I never dared while my father was alive. But after…” Hux trailed off.

“It could have endangered her.”

“I’d rather she think I didn’t remember her than be responsible for her destruction. She’s certainly not very old, and I’d like to imagine her living longer.”

“Give me your hands.”

The book sat askew in Hux’s lap as he offered his hands without a word, and Ren cast a line out into the wide universe. 

“You don’t have to lie to me if the answer is no,” Hux finally said. 

“It’s not.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Where is--”

“Her connection to the Force is still there, that’s all I can say.” 

It had clearly been too much to hope for, but it was also clearly a gift that Hux couldn’t pretend to not want, knowing she was out there. “It still might be dangerous.”

“Perhaps. If you did it alone.”

Hux studied Ren’s face for a long moment.

“But you would help.”

“If you showed a bit more gratitude for the things I do for you.”

A rude response was exactly what would set Hux at ease; too much sincerity made him crabby. 

“Like bring me cookbooks, as if I’m your maid.”

“You knew what that book was from the moment you saw it, didn’t you?”

Hux gave a sharp huff of breath. “I don’t like to be seen that way. A kitchen girl’s bastard. Why should I have to spell that out for you?”

The question, that Hux would not speak but that he was thinking as hard as he could, pointedly, in Ren’s direction: _Why would you give me anything that reminded me I was loved?_

Ren put his arms behind his back, hooked his hands together into a sinuous stretch. “You are,” he said, and it was the answer to both questions. 

Bastard, loved. Words too hard to look at. Hux pulled Ren by the shoulders on top of him, into a clumsy kiss, the book rolling off towards the edge of the bed, forgotten for the moment.


End file.
